


Just One Taste

by veiledndarkness



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veiledndarkness/pseuds/veiledndarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a golden opportunity and he'd be foolish to pass it up. Written for the twd_kinkmeme on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: _Merle convinces Daryl to come with him to some rough biker get-together or party, even though Daryl is wary. They lose track of each other at the house or club. He finds his little brother in some room roofied and half-conscious, blindfolded, hands tied with his own shirt, bent over a ratty couch arm being fucked by some guys from a rival biker gang._  
> .

He knew it was a bad idea to bring him along. 

He’s standing in one of the dirty bedrooms of an even dirtier house, in the midst of a rowdy biker party and his hands are twitching at his sides and he can’t quite wrap his mind around what he’s seeing. There’s blood streaked over his knuckles and he can hear the rapid footsteps fleeing behind him and one of those running away has a broken nose for his efforts, but that’s not why he’s standing stock still, staring, _staring_ at what they’ve done to his baby brother. 

Daryl…Merle can hear him moaning a little into the ripped fabric of the couch he’s been propped against, dumped over the arm of some filthy, fucking couch that was once green but now looks more like a mottled brown. He’s half-conscious and Merle would bet his last bullet that they drugged him too.

He’s been blindfolded, his shirt’s ripped clean off and his jeans are a crumpled heap of denim off to the side. He can see the fingerprint bruises on Daryl’s hips, can see the slickness dripping down his thighs and the only coherent emotion he has is pure rage. 

“Merle,” Daryl chuffs out a tiny moan, his back shivering. “Where’d ya go…”

He starts, but it’s clear that Daryl doesn’t know who’s there. He’s moaning every now and again, rubbing his face along the couch cushion, his arms pinned behind his back, tied with what he thinks might be Daryl’s shirt. 

The dull rage flares again and he’s already planning the revenge he’ll wreak on the men that had dared to touch his brother. He knows, oh he knows exactly why they did this, why they dared. Rivalries run deep and he’ll kill them, each and every one for this. 

Daryl moans again, a whimper passing his lips as he pleads with the air for his brother to come get him. He can’t look away from the curve of Daryl’s ass, the way his thighs are shaking. He’s been spread and used by more than one man, and he feels his cock start to stiffen. 

A breath catches in his chest and he’s entranced by the way Daryl’s moaning his name. 

He…He can’t…but the thought circles around and around in his head. 

Could he?

The slick liquid dripping down his thighs is a siren call and Merle can’t look away from the way Daryl’s rubbing along the couch, clearly struggling to get up but unable to and he feels that niggling thought in his mind that he might not ever get this opportunity again. 

He’s already walking over to the couch when it occurs to him that he’s undoing his belt, his cock rock hard against his jeans and even as he’s lowering them, his calloused fingers sliding over Daryl’s hips, he’s telling himself he’ll just touch him a bit, just a little, maybe just push inside him once…He’ll be real quiet, won’t say a word, Daryl won’t know…

Daryl lifts his head when he feels hands move over his skin and he looks about blindly, a hanker chief that’s seen better days tied tightly around his head. “No…” he whines lowly, attempting to struggle harder. “No…”

He bites his bottom lip to hold back his reassurances that want to come out. Daryl bucks under his fingers, wriggling his hips and Merle can feel how slick Daryl’s thighs are. He pushes one finger inside Daryl, probing, and the come that’s leaking from him sends a sharp spike of arousal through him. 

“No…” Daryl’s moaning again. “Merle’s…he’s gonna kill y’all,” he slurs before falling limply against the couch again. 

Merle pushes his finger in again, lust spiralling down his spine and he exhales a shuddery breath. Christ, but the boy is hot inside, hot, _wet_ warmth clutching at him. Just one thrust, he thinks absently, lining his cock up. He pulls his finger out and it’s like fucking heaven as he sinks his cock into Daryl.

“Don’t,” Daryl chokes, his voice thin and reedy as Merle thrusts in completely. 

He doesn’t move at first, can’t move. It’s too fucking good. Daryl’s still tight around the length of his cock and he’s slickly wet, so _warm_. He pants, fighting for control. He’ll pull out in a second; he just needed a taste…

Daryl sobs a little, moaning Merle’s name again and fuck, if that doesn’t make his cock twitch inside his little brother. He grips Daryl’s hips again and thrusts again, biting his lip harder to keep the filthy moan back in his throat. 

One more thrust, that’s all…

But one more thrust isn’t enough and he’s thrusting away without another thought, watching his cock slide in and out of Daryl, his heart pounding so hard against his ribs, his throat tight with unshed words and moans and groans. 

Daryl’s whimpering under him, his fingers curled into fists and he’s chanting Merle’s name with every other breath and that’s too much for him to handle. Merle slows his thrusts down, watching his cock disappear into Daryl, watching Daryl’s cock start to harden under him as he nails that sweet spot inside his boy. 

Forgetting about his need for silence, Merle exhales a slow breath. He can’t resist, He spits in his hand and reaches under Daryl, stroking his half hard cock with a firm hand until the boy is thrusting into his fingers, thrusting his ass backwards, meeting Merle’s cock with growing desperation, moaning and panting harder than before. 

“Fuck yeah,” he whispers in a ragged voice, watching Daryl come apart under him. He slams his hips forward, fucking the boy harder and he squeezes Daryl’s cock, feeling him swell and pulse, feeling him slam backwards, his ass clenching at his cock desperately. 

“Ah, ah!” Daryl’s wailing as he comes, sobbing into the couch, his come coating Merle’s fingers, drenching them in hot spurts. 

He stares at his hand and in a frenzy of thrusts, he fucks the boy harder than before, biting down on his lip until it bleeds as he comes, holding Daryl in tight. He holds his hips in place, pumping leisurely, riding out the last of his orgasm.

Daryl’s limp under him, trembling and Merle can see dampness on the boy’s cheeks. He can’t help the smirk that creeps over his face, even as his heart pounds double time from the strength of his orgasm. He licks the droplet of blood away from his split lip and chin, watching Daryl try not to cry. 

“Merle…” he chokes out faintly, his voice still breathy and uneven. “Please…where’d you go…”

He pats his hand on the small of Daryl’s back and says nothing as he pulls out of him, fresh come pouring down his thighs. He’ll leave the room, wait a few minutes, then come in, the big hero and save his little brother from the bad guys. He nods and rubs two fingers over Daryl, pushing some of his come back inside him. 

Once…it’s not quite enough.


End file.
